#22

July 31, 2013 | Letters

dear ____,

good morning. really, that’s how I will open this letter. your morning is just about to start, but I can’t imagine it. I used to be able to imagine your daily routines. I know so little of your life now, I have nothing to fill in the gaps with. it bothers me. we never had enough mornings together, we never had enough time together to begin with. it seems as if we see each other every two years, but this year we will stretch the time even further. how many times have I said this over the years? I wish we lived closer to each other. I wish you lived down the street. I wish. I haven’t heard from you in a while, although the last time we spoke it seemed that things were looking up on your end. your career is taking off and I am happy for you. I am also happy you decided to stay where you are instead of going back home. if I could, I would say the same thing about myself.

I am sending this letter out, as I always do, after a week since I finished writing it. it’s not that I need to build up the courage to post it, but I just need to make sure that everything is still accurate after the days pass. long gone are the times when I couldn’t keep my mind made up about you. you are still a constant thought on my mind, but it’s so different what used to be. I am not sure why it’s so hard for me to come to terms with that. perhaps, because for a long time I thought my first love will also be the only one. I remember a few months ago when you became single again, I felt this tiny, tiny tingle of happiness, but I felt so guilty about it (because it wasn’t a real emotion, and it was completely irrational) that I finished the conversation almost immediately after that and logged off. I thought, what if you can sense it, from the typed words across the screen? you’d think I am a terrible person. it was an unbearable thought.

soon, we will have another thing common. and I will also see you soon. you’ll see.

signed oscar wilde.